Ambrosia
by GoldFountain
Summary: An unlikely pair enjoy some ice cream by the sea.


Ambrosia

* * *

The sun was shining. The sky was clear. The cries of overjoyed children rang through his ears.

Summer. How he hated summer. Just hearing the word was enough to make him cringe. Hearing the caterwauling yells of undignified brats was even worse. How he hated summer, and almost everything about it. He never would have come here if he knew how hot it was going to be.

He had sat down on a bench under a tree earlier, unable to take the heat for much longer. There were those that stubbornly persisted to enjoy themselves underneath the scorching sun, but he was wiser than them. He knew that it was a futile effort to try and ignore that big ball of fire. So be it for those crazed fools that ran through the fields, sweating profusely without a care in the world - or for their hydration and complexions, for that matter. Kudos to them for wanting to suffer. No, he wasn't going to suffer like them. _He_ wasn't going to be the one dying in this heat.

Bowser Koopa was not a martyr.

This bench wasn't exactly a lifesaver for him, however. He was still outside, after all, and being in the shade didn't make the humid heat any less bearable. Why he decided to stay outside instead of retreating into the safe reserves of his own home, he didn't know. He was rather baffled, and racked his head about this interrogative question.

After ten seconds, Bowser decided that he had pondered on this vagueness for long enough. He couldn't remember why, and that was that. No use going into overdrive mode about it. He had the sun to blame for that.

Just then, Bowser heard a voice.

"Hey! I've got the ice cream!"

Oh. Right. That was why.

Bowser turned his head lazily. A small girl dressed in a thick plush parka was running towards him, carrying two cones with scoops of precariously stacked ice cream in her hands.

A small girl dressed in a thick plush parka.

A thick plush parka.

_Parka._

No matter how many times he saw her - even if he only saw her for a few times - whatever she wore always stunned him. Who would wear a parka in during a midsummer afternoon? No one with a sane mind, that's who. There was no doubt about it. This girl was the craziest of the bunch.

As the girl approached him, she began to slow her pace. Bowser thought how she had made it here miraculously without dropping any of the ice cream in the process. As far as he could tell, not even a drip of ice cream fell onto the sidewalk on her way here.

But what he thought was more miraculous was how this girl could wear a parka under the heat of the blazing sun, and what was more: she didn't look the least bit hot, sweaty, or uncomfortable. A miracle by all means. Bowser couldn't help but feel pangs of envy seeing how relaxed this girl was.

"You picked a good spot," said the girl, noting the shade and view with a nod of her head. She handed him an ice cream.

Bowser accepted the ice cream gratefully and looked out ahead of him. He hadn't noticed, but the bench he had picked overlooked a seaside cliff right on the coastline. The sound of water crashing down against the side of the cliff lent the place a sort of serene atmosphere. Bowser could see how Nana thought this was a good spot - the scene looked so picturesque that he would have been surprised to see this not yet turned into a watercolor landscape.

"Yeah, it is. It is a good spot," Bowser agreed. He glanced at the ice cream in his hands and added, "Thanks for the ice cream."

"You're welcome."

The girl in the pink parka plopped down onto a seat beside him, licking at the ice cream with the satisfied smile of a cat licking a dish full of milk.

With a curious glint in his eyes, Bowser took a glance at the girl. The girl that brought also brought ice cream to him, a massive, grotesque, fire-breathing reptilian creature that seemed to show no appreciation or regard for anything cold or sweet. He didn't even know her name, and she didn't know his, and yet, here she was, treating this total stranger to some ice cream on this hot summer day.

Bowser felt a cold tingle run across one of his palms. He turned to the ice cream dripping in his grip. Of course! Of course the ice cream would drip when he carried it in his hands, but not while it was in hers.

"You'd better begin licking soon," the girl said. "These ice creams begin melting quickly after a few minutes or so."

Bowser jumped at the sound of the girl's voice. He saw that she had paused in her licking to glance at his condition - or rather, his ice cream's condition. Traces of purple stained the skin around her mouth.

"A-Ah, yeah." Bowser raised the ice cream to his lips.

Now that the ice cream was closer to him, Bowser was able to see the color of the scoop more clearly. This particular scoop she chose for him was colored a delicate blend of orange and pink, with sprinkles of deep ruby red and shining yellow dotting the top. Bowser wondered what the flavor was; the color was too orange to be strawberry and too pink to be orange.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Bowser stuck his tongue out, and with the apprehension of a child poking at undesirable veggies, dabbed the tip of his tongue to catch the smallest bit of ice cream into his mouth.

Immediately a cool yet warm sensation filled the inside of his mouth. Sweet, but not too sweet. A bit fruity. Rather refined. It was a familiar sort of taste, for he could feel the triggers going off in his brain. A strange feeling of controlled craving coursed through him. Too bad the feeling wasn't controlled enough to prevent him from taking another lick.

Bowser stuck his tongue out again, and now, his fear of the unknown having disappeared, licked at the ice cream profusely with the slightest of smiles on his face on this hot summer day.

Needless to say, he liked the flavor.

* * *

Soon enough, the two of them had finished their ice creams at the same time, despite the girl having had a head start.

"That was delicious," said Bowser, licking his lips. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling a bit disappointed at the lack of ice cream in his hands.

"It sure felt refreshing," said the girl. "And I'm glad that you liked it. I was a bit unsure about which flavor to pick for you."

"You didn't have to worry much. I loved it, actually. What flavor was it, though?"

The girl avoided his eyes, but not with the desire to dart from the subject or to look at the sky. She had a knowing smile on her face, one that was strong enough that she didn't bother to conceal.

"Peach honey," was her reply.


End file.
